Once Upon a December
by AbbyMasrai
Summary: For some, the miracle of Christmas comes in the form of friendship.


**A/N: I wanted to have this up on Christmas Eve, but it turned out way longer than expected. But anyways, this is my Christmas gift to the Fan Fiction world, so Merry Christmas everybody, I hope you like it! I hope it was a joyous holiday for all of you.**

**And yes, the name of this comes from the Anastasia song "Once Upon a December."**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Once Upon A December

A high pitch sound wakes me from my slumber. Still half asleep, I scramble for my phone, turning off the alarm I had set the night before. Once I succeed, I sit up in my bed and stretch. I then place my feet on the floor before quickly jerking them back into my bed, the wooden floor freezing to the touch. Looking around, I locate my slippers. Without getting out of my warm, cozy bed, I reach with my right hand for the slippers, my other hand grasping the headboard of the bed tightly. Finally, I manage to grab them and stick my feet into the slippers before I quietly make my way to the closet. I don't waste much time deciding what to wear, fully aware that where I plan to go today doesn't warrant certain types of attire. I sport a dark green sweater with a pair of denim blue jeans, the cuffs of the pant covering my white converse.

I acknowledge the time, and as usual, I am on time. After grabbing a few items, I silently creep down the stairs, knowing it is too early for anyone else to be awake. Jumping over the final, but by far the creakiest stair, I walk over to the Christmas tree, placing three identically wrapped presents under its unspoiled green foliage. I then saunter to the kitchen, and retrieve a pencil and pad of paper. Hastily I scrawl a quick note to the Knights, promising that I'd return soon. I hope the note will help my second family understand why I'm doing what I'm doing. After proofreading it, I place it by the plate of cookies and cup of milk, most of which is already gone due to last night's "visitor."

I mentally go through my list, and after I am assured I did everything I needed to do, I grab my overcoat and leave the house. As soon as I lock the front door, I hear the sound of a car stopping. With a quick check of my watch, I know it's my ride. I turn around and see the yellow taxi patiently waiting in front of the house. As I walk toward the taxi, I marvel at the purples and pinks that painted the Minnesotan morning sky.

The very first thing I notice once I'm inside the cab is the acrid smell of cigarette smoke, even though there is a sign inside the car prohibiting smoking within the vehicle.

"Aren't you a little young to be riding in a taxi alone?" the driver asks me in a thick New York accent. I don't respond, instead I pull out a thick wad of cash I have been saving for the past year.

"Oh…where to?" the man responds, clearly not minding the fact that his passenger was barely fifteen.

"St. Mary's on Magnolia and Shepherd," I respond tersely.

The driver whistles. "That's a long way, son."

The drive to St. Mary's is quiet one, though I can feel the driver's dark brown eyes drift on me every so often. I can't really blame him though, it must be odd for him to drive a teenager around town on Christmas day.

Thankfully there's hardly any traffic at this time of the day, so we arrive in front of St. Mary's Psychiatric Ward in record time. The cab driver eyes the place weirdly before turning his gaze onto me. "You sure this is where you want to be?"

"I need you to wait for me so you can drive me somewhere else," I say, ignoring the man's question.

"I don't know…" the driver replies. Though I am only fifteen, I see right through the man's game.

"If you drive me everywhere I need to go today, I promise to pay you double the cab faire."

The man nods enthusiastically. "You got yourself a deal, kid."

I open the door of the taxi and grab the package I brought with me. Without acknowledging the taxi driver, I hurry inside the edifice.

As soon as I enter the building, I am greeted by the smells of cinnamon and spice. Reflexively I feel myself relax, the scent triggering memories of Christmases past. I then hear the muffled sound of a Christmas carol I know, but can't quite recall. I don't get much time to think, for I hear someone say my name.

"Logan?" The voice sounds surprised. I turn my head and notice the source of the voice is from the woman sitting behind the dark, wooden counter on the other side of the lobby. From prior visits, I recognize her as the receptionist at the ward.

"Ms. Nichols," I state as I move closer to the woman.

"Please call me Claire," the woman responds, smiling widely at me. "It's been a while since I last saw you."

"Yeah, it's been a busy year at school," I answer back, hoping she'd buy my lie.

"Of course." Her smile falters slightly, "He's still in the same room since you've last been here. Do you remember where that is?"

Though Claire means nothing by what she said, her statement feels like a hard slap across my face.

"I do."

Claire opens her mouth to say something, but the front door opens, revealing a middle-aged woman. Her tired blue eyes sweep the lobby before finally resting on Claire and me. She seems to brighten somewhat, as she approaches the receptionist's desk.

"Merry Christmas Ms. Claire," she says.

Claire beams at the woman. "Merry Christmas, Louise. How have you been?"

The two women begin to chat, and I take it as my cue to leave. Though it's been a few weeks since I last came, I know my away around the ward like the back of my hand. With no trouble at all, I find myself in front of room 145. I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself down. I know that every visit differs from the last, and that anything is possible. I have to mentally prepare myself. Once I feel composed, I knock on the door.

"Come in."

I open the door, and see the man sitting up in his bed. Though the man grins widely at me, I see no flash of recognition on my face. Saddened by the notion, I take a seat in a chair next to the bed. The two of us remain in silence for some time, which made me feel awkward. Wanting to disrupt the stillness, I reach for the package I brought with me.

"I-I got this for you," I stammer, handing the man the package.

He accepted the gift from me with genuine curiosity in his eyes. Opening the present, he takes out the brown, silk scarf.

"I know it gets really cold in your room," I offer by way of an explanation.

The man smiles apologetically at me, "This is wonderful, thank you. But I'm afraid I don't remember you."

I feel my shoulders slump involuntarily. "Oh. I'm Logan."

The man scrunches his face. "I'm sorry, I just can't seem to remember you. How do you know me?"

Briefly I freeze, not sure how to proceed. "It doesn't matter," I decide to say. I then stand up, my emotions starting to take over.

"I should probably go now."

I head to the door, not waiting for the man to respond. As I close the door behind me, I hear him say, "Merry Christmas Logan."

Tears begin to build up in my eyes as the door slams shut behind me.

"Merry Christmas Dad," I mutter. Hastily I make my way back outside, wanting nothing more than to get away from this nightmarish place.

I storm my way past Claire, her voice a mere echo in my brain. Ignoring her, for fear I would breakdown completely, I exit St. Mary's and head back to the taxicab. By the time I reach the car door, I have better control of my emotions. Calmly, I slide into the backseat and buckle my seatbelt.

"Where to, kid?" the driver asks.

"Assumption Cemetery, along Highway 6," I inform the driver, overlooking his reaction completely.

The first twenty minutes of the ride is quiet, much like it had been on the way to the ward. But after a while—whether it's because he is completely weirded out or genuinely curious, I didn't know—the driver breaks the silence.

"Who did you go see at St. Mary's?"

Though his voice is nonchalant, I notice that his eyes continually flicker onto his rearview mirror—onto me. My first reaction is to be insulted by his bold question, but after thinking about it, I decide that he's entitled to some information about today's odd journey.

"My dad."

I turn my face toward the window, not wanting to know his response. After a few minutes of dead air between us, I allow my mind to wander as I look up at the sky. Vaguely, I note that the sky has taken a greyish hue, and briefly I wonder if it'll snow. My heart thumps painfully against my chest at the thought.

"We're here."

I feel my stomach drop down to my feet as my eyes rest upon the rusty iron gates I have come to know too well. Hesitantly I unbuckle my seatbelt, apprehension filling my entire being. My hand hovers over the door handle, my resolve momentarily weakening. Gathering what little courage I had within me, I open the door.

The temperature seems to have dropped since we left St. Mary's, causing me to pull my jacket closer to my body as I walk to the cab driver's window. Surprised, the man rolls down the window.

"Yeah?"

As I try not to shiver, I put my hand in my pocket and withdraw the wad of cash I had promised him earlier today. "Here, it's the money I promised you. Double the cab faire."

He reaches out to grab the money, but then pauses. "You keep it."

"I can't let you do that," I insist, "Please, take it."

"No, it's okay. Seems to me that you're going through a rough time. I'd feel bad taking that money."

"Well, at least take half of it. You'll need it for gas."

The man gives me a hard look, but I don't back down. We stare at each other for a few minutes, engaging in a wordless battle. Finally the man sighs, defeated. "Ok."

As I hand him the money he asks, "Won't you need a ride home, though?"

"Got it covered," I respond, showing him my cell phone. "I just didn't want anyone I know coming with me today."

He nods. "Alright, best of luck to you, kid. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

He sends a small smile my way as he rolls up his window and takes off. Once the yellow cab is out of my sight I turn around, eyeing the cemetery nervously. Truth be told, this is the first time I have ever been to the cemetery by myself. My dad used to take me before, but that all changed when he was committed. And ever since that day, I haven't had the guts to come back here.

But I'm here, after all these months…I'm not about to back down now. Determined, I enter the graveyard, carefully moving around the tombstones. The trees here have lost their leaves, the bareness making the trees appear eerie against the grey sky. Everything here screams death and decay, and I don't like it. It hits too close to home.

It doesn't take me too long to find her marker, and before I know it, I'm on my knees. Rubbing the marble slab gently, I allow the tears that I keep bottled inside flow freely.

"Merry Christmas mom," I whisper, "I'm sorry I couldn't bring you any flowers…nothing's open today." A strained laugh manages to escape my throat.

I sit beside my mother for a while, too lost to do much else. I find myself reflecting on happier times, when I used to have a mom and a dad. A sudden coldness on my face jerks me from my recollections, and with a familiar ache in my heart, I realize it's snowing.

"Would you look at that?" I murmur, "Snow. It used to be your favorite, mom. Do you remember how we would sit in the backyard on the big swing drinking hot cocoa as the snow fell? I remember how every winter I'd hope for snow so we could do that together. It's been a while since we last were able to, wasn't it?"

"Logan?" I hear a voice yell, disrupting the stillness.

_Kendall._

I quickly brush the tears off my face, hoping to hide my sorrow. But, as always, Kendall sees right through it.

"Oh Logie," he says as he approaches me.

"Hey," I whisper, not trusting the strength of my voice.

"Logan, why are you doing this to yourself?" he asks sadly as he sits down next to me.

"What?" I shoot back, uncertain of the meaning of his question.

"It's Christmas, Logan. It's supposed to be a day of joy and peace. Why would you go and hurt yourself like this, today of all days?"

"I'm sorry if you think visiting my parents is _hurting _me, but they're all I have."

"That's not true. You know my family and I love you very much, as well as James' and Carlos' families." Kendall counters, looking hurt.

"I know you guys do, and I am forever indebted to you and your family for taking me in. But—" I pause, trying to hold my tears, "my parents are still my parents, dead or alive…sane or insane. And it's Christmas…I owe them that much."

"_Owe_?" Kendall echoes in disbelief, "Logan, you owe your father _nothing_ after what he did to you." Kendall's eyes widen as he realized what he said. But it's too late…the damage is done. I feel the blood enter my face, the anger settling in.

"What, Kendall? You mean when he tried to _shoot me_? Or are you referring to the moments prior when he told me he _cheated on my mom before she died_? You don't think I remember that? Of course I do! And I will _never _forgive him for that. But he's still my _father_, Kendall, and he's just as much of a victim as I was when my mom passed away. The guilt ate at him until he completely lost it. He wasn't himself when he shot himself, and I know he would never have shot at me for any other reason. He was a good father, believe it or not."

Kendall opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "No matter what you say Kendall, you'll _never _understand." My best friend stays quiet for a minute.

"You're right, Logan," he admits, "I could never understand what it's like to be you. And I'm sorry for being insensitive. But you have to know I only said what I said because it _kills _me to see you so sad."

"I know."

We sit in silence for a little while, neither of us able to think of anything worthwhile to say. The snow continues to fall, getting heavier by the minute as the temperature continues to drop.

"I'm sorry too," I suddenly say, earning a shocked reaction from my friend.

"About what?" Kendall questions, "You didn't do anything wrong."

I sigh, "No, I did. As much as I miss my parents, nothing will ever bring them back. I shouldn't be wallowing in self-pity. I have a wonderful life, and it's all thanks to you, James, and Carlos. And it's time I start remembering that."

"You know you're not alone…right, Logan? I mean…you know that Carlos, James, and I would be more than happy to go visit your parents with you, if it would help."

My hearts swells with gratefulness. "I know, and thanks." I then stand up, catching Kendall off-guard.

"Let's go home," I suggest as I brush off the white powder that has collected on my head and clothes.

"You sure, Logan?"

I look back at my mom's grave solemnly, knowing that the length of time I stay here won't bring her back. "I'm sure."

Silently, we left my mother's grave. As we walk away, a question appears in my mind.

"How did you know to come here?"

"We didn't," Kendall confesses, "We first went to St. Mary's, but Claire told us you had left long before we got there. We drove here because we didn't know where else you could've gone. You had us worried there for a while."

"I'm sorry."

Kendall turns and smiles gently at me. "Don't worry about it. You did leave us a note, after all."

I smirk. "So, did everyone like their Christmas presents?"

"Oh, we didn't open the gifts yet. We were waiting for you to come home."

"Now I feel _really _bad."

"Don't. If it makes you feel any better…" Kendall starts to say as a diabolical grin stretches across his face, "we can just take away one of your gifts as punishment."

"Now _that_ is cruel," I counter, pretending to be offended.

Kendall laughs in response. "Merry Christmas, Logan."

"Merry Christmas, Kendall."

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**A/N: So, for those of you who have read "If Today Was Your Last Day," this is based on that story. And for those of you who haven't read it…I tried to write it so that if a person hadn't read that story, they'd still be able to understand what was going on here. I hope I succeeded. **

**Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Happy Holidays! Love, Abby. **


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